I am in training mode. I am hauling butt, up and down the hills on the bike path. I scorch the hill at Pennsylvania, and attempt to coast down the other side.

I get aero, in the drops, chin on my bars.

I look to my left, and a blue blur with legs pedals past me. I couldn't see what kit you had on, because sweat was in my eyes, and I don't have 20/20 vision to see that far, but you were on your hoods, seemingly slow pedaling past me.

I crossed paths with you again after you made the turn to head back at the only street on the path.

Usually I don't care when I get dropped or passed. What killed my soul, was that I was racing you, and you didn't know it, and you still won. :eek:

Next week, your toast.